


Drabbles & Short Stories: Dangan Ronpa Edition

by ornateslime



Series: Drabbles & Short Stories [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/F, F/M, Korekiyo's sister is a bad person, M/M, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornateslime/pseuds/ornateslime
Summary: A series of drabbles and short stories featuring Dangan Ronpa characters.None of these are long enough to make into their own one-shot.
Relationships: Genocider Syo | Genocide Jack/Togami Byakuya, Iruma Miu/Yonaga Angie, Momota Kaito/Shinguji Korekiyo, Shinguji Korekiyo/Shinguji Korekiyo's Sister
Series: Drabbles & Short Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652449
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

"The space between the sky and the stars doesn't know love. Not like the solid ground beneath your feet does. Unlike solid ground, he's vile. He will choke you out before you even reach the 'Newfound Land', the new planet that you are leaving me, your sister, behind for. Oh, sweet brother, the space between heartbeats was never meant to be explored. And that's exactly what your _Kaito,_ dear precious, _Kaito,_ is. Unattainable, unreachable, the space where the stars don't meet the sky. He is dark and vile and cruel. Don't lend yourself to him." Korekiyo averts his gaze away from her, anywhere but her sickly face would do.

"Korekiyo, listen to me now. You love me, right?" She says sticky sweet, Korekiyo swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"You could never love someone more than your sick, older sister." She says this all with a sort of twisted conviction to him.

One sentiment that Korekiyo can not say he shares. Because he doesn't feel the same conviction, the same way as she.

He can't say he loves her anymore. His heart belongs elsewhere.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genocider Sho, reflects on her crush.

There was a man she loved with a violent love, and she spent much of her time thinking about his wife. She would ponder on how to win him, how to display him like a gold trophy in her room at night, behind a locked door. She would play around with the idea of simply selling her- his wife- away, never to be seen again. This hopelessly infatuated- although obsessed may be a tad more accurate- woman, was plotting a way to achieve her trophy man. Her medal saying, 'good job, dear, you look lovely today, might I add'. She knew him inside and out, better than the back of her hand. Even more so than his wife, she dare say.

She waited days and days which turned into years and years, for him to notice- to see- her, to _really actually_ see _her._ But he went off and married some common place _whore_ instead. Why, why couldn't he see how much love she- his best friend- loved him! She was his guardian angel! Not her! Not his _bitch-ass whore of a_ _wife_! 

No, definitely not his wife who was slowly taking him away from her!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korekiyo muses about his life

Korekiyo's life is wheedling away at his fingers, slipping through his grasp as if it wants to run away. To leave him without a guide. After all, what is the beginning and what is the end to this fake life? When will all stops be pulled and he will stop running away like a rabbit.

Stand there and loud and proud, not as a doll- but as himself. Stand loud and proud before the train and defiantly state in a deafening tone, "I am here! This is me!"

All though that seems to be all entirely unlikely. His veins burn with untold fires, yet just yet, he is too much of a rabbit to do anything... Anything but run away, only waiting for the vulture to finally catch up. And he knows that it will catch up.

And when the vulture does the hyenas will bicker and pick at the blood and meat left on his entirely too lanky bones. And the fire will turn into venom and that venom will be in his bones. Fusing into the marrow.

And his last act will be to poison the innocent dog that, oh so foolishly, ate that marrow.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miu Iruma contemplates something more than a crush on one, Angie Yonaga

She could remember her first love, quite vividly in fact. She had been a most breathtaking beauty. She- her beauty, her grace, her love- tore her down and left her to rot after she found out about the ‘love’ that was nothing more than a crush. 

So, naturally, she built walls and towers and turrets and _protection_. She protected her heart.

Then.

  
Then she met her. She was a delicate, dainty, petite, tiny little thing. She wasn’t anything impressive, at a first glance. But eventually, it started again. Miu can’t remember when the feelings began but she remembers what she felt like when she _did_ grasp and try to throttle those feelings.

It felt like lava pooling from her heels to her toes, bubbling up through her legs, and flooding into the pits of her stomach like an over shaken soda pop. The lava catches the tinder in her heart on fire, it bubbles, coaxes and melted its way through the tall, sleek castle of stone. The castle holds one thing in its center, locked away and hidden in the oubliette- the vault, the chest, the chamber, the dungeon- holding ever so carefully that delicate tinder. That kindling that once may have been a merrily burning inferno of happiness. But she isn’t one to take chances, she built the walls around the only remaining segment of that tinder.

The only thing that was dry after that astonishing, calamitous, cataclysmic, cloudburst of a storm. The rain had been heavy and cold and unforgiving. It plopped her down in a place that ripped her to shreds and left her broken, starving and craving companionship. This castle, this labyrinth, this maze, this claymore mine of an acropolis. It was built with one thing in mind. To never let someone hurt her again. To not let someone even get close to the smoking, barely alive kindling, all that happened to be all that was left of a once happy life…

No. She couldn’t allow anyone in. She’d block them out, or they would die trying to get past her defenses.

But.

Then.

Then, she met her and she bubbled and fizzed and soothed and seeped her way through. Through the traps, through the walls, through the fortress. She got hurt-oh, yes she got so, _so_ hurt- but she persevered and with an odd, irregular, soothing, tranquil smile. It was her, with her mysterious, yet welcoming light ice blue eyes, her pale dark hickory brown skin that was so unlike her own (Her own skin being more of an alabaster ivory tone).

If she was ever hurt, she never showed it. In fact, Miu had to give it to her, she hardly showed that she was affected by Miu’s own flares of her own inky, slimy and disgusting tendrils anger, hurt and betrayal.

And she must be hurt, that is, with taking care of wild and jaded and bitter souls like Miu. Those hurt, tortured souls… Those souls, they bite, they lash out, they injure, they marred that once flawless skin. It’s covered with delicate lace-like scars. Beautiful, enthralling, but caustic and incendiary to even look at.

Excruciating for her to know that she was the cause for- for more than one of those fine scars- more than she ever even bothered to count, actually. More than she was willing to admit of those finespun interwoven threads of scarred tissue, were provoked onto that soft skin by herself.

Yet.

Yet, she was patient, and she was kind. Even with all of the pain that she must be carrying inside of herself.

And yet, even through all of the pain and the hurt, she would wrap up her wounds and only after, never before. Only then when Miu was fully cared for, would she tend to her own (Her own pain- her own burdens). Her own weeping wounds and blistering, burning, righteous pain.

She was the pacifying moon to her burning, scorching, searing sun-like self.

And maybe now she would realize. That, the lava that sparked that warmth in her chest, that it wasn’t bad.

She caught it- the feelings- too late, she knows. She only captured the feeling and worked it out when it organized and constructed its way to be a blazing bonfire. A bonfire that takes up her chest and wafts smoke up through her throat and tickles her eyes in such a gentle way. A way that was only ever she could do, because she understood, she _understood_ when everybody else never even bothered to try.

And throughout this revelation, this graceful and elegant smoke, it floated up to her mind and ensnared it in such a way that she, now only now, wants to cry.

And the velvety, tender, careful smoke with its spirals and curls and coils… it chokes her so softly and beautifully, that she does.

(Miu only spares the briefest moment of thought to how foolish- how silly, how devastating, how hurt, how _utterly_ _in love_ \- she must look.)

Because no matter how hard she might try to release a guillotine on those beautiful, aching, flowering _feelings_ , she could never.

And hopefully, hopefully this time, they’ll flourish underneath Angie's gentle, kind, wonderful care. 

And hopefully, hopefully this time, they’ll be requited and loved equally in return.


End file.
